


Flowers

by Gammarad



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arcades, Awkward Romance, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18641359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gammarad/pseuds/Gammarad
Summary: Ryan works at Mondragon Arcade where Aidan comes every day to play Garden Keeper, his favorite video game. Then one day the arcade owner, needing the money, sells some lesser used units, including Aidan's favorite.





	Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jibberjabber13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibberjabber13/gifts).



> This story was inspired by two of the recipient's requests:
> 
> Employee of a Struggling Arcade/Autistic Guy Who Comes in Every Day to play Pinball  
> Flower Goddess Disguised as a Mortal/Unaware Lady Florist

Ryan was sick the week Mr. Mondragon decided to purge the arcade of the machines hardly anyone played. He had missed three days of classes with the flu, and spent the next three catching up on missed coursework before he could return to his job at the arcade.

Arcades weren't popular anymore like they had been when Mr. Mondragon opened his, the boss told Ryan often enough, but the next sentence was always his pride that he'd picked one of the few locations where an arcade would still be a going concern. The old boardwalk was more of a historical curiosity and tourist trap than anything else, but it got a lot of local traffic too. The town was proud of it. Somewhere between an amusement park and a beachfront, Lakeside endured nearly unchanged for decade after decade. Arcades had replaced pinball machines with computer game consoles of various kinds, but not closed down. 

It wouldn't have mattered, but one of the machines Mr. Mondragon had sold was the Garden Keeper game. Aidan's favorite.

For the entire six months Ryan had worked there, Aidan had been one of the arcade's regulars, visiting most afternoons two or three times. He had a predictable routine. Aidan came in, got change from Ryan for a dollar, went over to the Garden Keeper console and put in his four quarters, and played a game.

Ryan had only seen a few tourists play Garden Keeper, and each of them only once, but Aidan never played anything else. His initials, ARC, were in every spot of the 50 high scores. Ryan only knew Aidan's name because they were in the same calculus class at the Lakeside Community College. Aidan sometimes sat next to Ryan, but they hadn't even exchanged enough words to ask to borrow school supplies. The calculus teacher never had students work together. Ryan was in a study group organized by another classmate, but Aidan hadn't joined it. 

He wanted to ask Aidan to join the study group. He wanted to talk to him when he came in the arcade. But Aidan always seemed so focused on playing Garden Keeper and getting out again. Some days he came back three times over four or five hours and played a single game each time. From watching, Ryan got the idea that Aidan was stopping at the arcade between deliveries of flowers. There were usually at least one and sometimes several bouquets in the buckets attached at either side of Aidan's bike. Even when the buckets were empty, Aidan brought the scent of fresh cut flowers into the arcade with him. 

Sometimes Ryan daydreamed about how focused Aidan was on what he was doing. He imagined Aidan focused like that on him. He was tired of the crush he had on Aidan, because as far as he could tell, Aidan thought of him as a machine for trading dollar bills for quarters. It was the only interaction they'd ever had that elicited a response. 

Ryan had tried asking how the flower deliveries were going. About how Aidan was doing in calculus. He'd tried purposely forgetting his scrap paper and asking Aidan to borrow some. Aidan had never responded beyond the minimum. "Fine," when asked about deliveries or classwork. Silent handing over of paper when he asked for that. Nothing more. It was embarrassing, was what it was. 

The only reason he hadn't entirely lost hope was that he'd seen Aidan's reaction when other students talked to him, especially when girls tried to flirt with him. It was the most skin crawlingly awkward thing Ryan had ever seen. While he gave Ryan the impression he didn't notice him, Aidan also didn't flinch when Ryan spoke to him. He didn't look actively distressed at being talked to or asked something of. 

Ryan wished he had a crush on someone more outgoing and chatty. Maybe someone he could have a conversation with. He thought it was probably something wrong with him. But it didn't bother him much most days, since he wasn't going to ever get anywhere, and it was kind of nice to have that pressure off. He could just enjoy watching Aidan play Garden Keeper. 

Aidan would focus on the game, his shoulders tight, his head bent in a way that looked uncomfortable. There was something fascinating about how his fingers moved over the buttons, about the intensity of his concentration.

And then Mr. Mondragon got rid of Garden Keeper along with some other machines while Ryan was off for a week being sick. The arcade manager had sold them on on Ebay, Ryan found out on his first day back when he asked what happened to the missing consoles. His only thought was worry about Aidan.

Ryan had a sick feeling of anticipation the entire shift. It was only made worse by Aidan not coming by at all. He wasn't sure which he was afraid of, Aidan coming in and seeing his game was gone, or Aidan not coming back anymore. Working at the arcade without Aidan's visits to play Garden Keeper felt more discouraging to Ryan than he thought it ought to be.

After work he went home. Milisa Bartos sat at her kitchen table in her pajamas, looking into the murky future. At the first clatter of yarrow sticks onto the wood finish fiberboard of the tabletop, one of the yellow dishcloths fell from where it had hung from the oven handle and puddled onto the floor.

Ryan went to pick up the dishcloth while his mother made faces at her yarrow throw. It wasn't anything unusual; she used a wide variety of divination techniques, though most often cards. Ryan ignored her and got the ingredients out to fix dinner for them both.

"Flowers," she said curiously. 

Ryan looked over at her. "What, mom?"

"Your future has flowers." A frown line formed between her eyes. "I'm not sure if this is right."

"I'm gay, mom. That doesn't mean I want to be a florist." Ryan sighed. 

"Of course not. This isn't … there's a florist, maybe, but it's not you. It's someone else. And the florist isn't the flowers."

His mother never made much sense. Ryan found it frustrating, but endearing too. He let her do her thing and finished making dinner.

The next day, when Aidan came in to the arcade, he walked to where Garden Keeper had been, even though it wasn't there anymore. He stopped at its former location and turned around, then glanced — only for a moment — at Ryan. He wouldn't meet Ryan's eyes, instead looking out the window as he spoke. "The game I play isn't here anymore."

"No. The owner sold it. I'm sorry."

"I'll try playing something else." Aidan glanced again at Ryan, then without another word went to another game console and looked it over. It was a racing game. He put quarters in, and played for a couple of minutes, no more, before he had lost all his cars to crashes or other hazards. Then he went outside, got back on his bike with the bouquets, and rode off, Ryan assumed to resume his flower deliveries.

That pattern became the new recurring one. Aidan came in, noted that Garden Keeper was still not where it used to be, and played a new game for a couple of minutes, then left.

Ryan felt uneasy. Aidan no longer looked like he was enjoying his gaming. Maybe he'd find a new game he liked. But maybe he'd just stop coming to the arcade. Maybe the person who'd bought the game was a rival arcade owner and Aidan would start going there instead. 

His shift having ended early one night, Ryan walked down the boardwalk, looking at each shop front he passed. There were quite a few souvenir shops and a few other arcades, a lot of places to get food — hot dogs, burgers, pizza, wraps, ice cream, donuts — whatever you wanted as long as it could be served out of a window and eaten while walking. Then he walked by a florist shop. The man behind the counter yelled something sharply and Ryan flinched. He hoped that wasn't where Aidan worked. 

Further down, past a tattoo parlor and a more risque souvenir shop and a bunch more food places, another arcade and another florist shop were side by side. Ryan looked in the window of the florist shop. It was prettier than the first one he'd looked at, better lit, interior walls painted a soft yellow shade, carpet a muted green. He went inside.

Ryan saw flowers of all sorts in the store. Arrangements and bouquets filled several shelves. Individual blooms sorted by type and color were displayed on another. A bucket labeled "Clearance $1" held a few imperfect or slightly wilted single roses, daisies, and carnations.

"Hello. Can I help you?" The woman who asked this question was white haired but not very old; she had a kind smile. Even though Ryan didn't answer her right away, she didn't look irritated. "That's all right. Take your time, look around," she said, and seemed like she was about to go on, but the door opened again and someone else came in.

The newcomer was a pretty red-haired woman who had a piece of paper in her hand that she seemed intent on staring a hole through. She walked over to the white-haired florist and handed her the paper, looking almost shy. "It's a history of the best ways to grow gardenias," she said as she handed it over.

"Thank you very much," the florist said, accepting the gift. She smiled her kind smile at the red-haired woman, who left immediately. 

Ryan suppressed a laugh. The redhead had reminded him of someone, though he wasn't sure who. "She seemed nice," he said. 

"She comes in often, but never buys anything. She likes to give me pamphlets, but she's never tried to sell me anything either." The florist looked bemused.

"I actually came in to ask if, well, if Aidan works here?" Ryan tried to remember Aidan's last name. He knew it started with C. "Aidan C?" he said for lack of a better idea.

"My son Aidan, yes, he does my deliveries. He's out doing them now. Are you a friend of his?"

"He's in my calculus class," Ryan said. It was true. It felt like he kind of was lying, but he wasn't sure why, because it was true.

"Cachubon. That's what the C stands for. I'm his mother, Ada Wynne." 

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Wynne." Ryan didn't want to ask questions like was she remarried or had she not changed her name. There were plenty of reasons someone's mother might have a different last name, and he had no reason to need to know. Even if he was curious.

Aidan came in. It was what Ryan had been hoping for, and he froze. Not at all sure what to say, he pretended to be shopping, but wasn't really looking at the shelves or what they held. He was mostly watching Aidan without looking directly at him. As far as Ryan could tell, Aidan hadn't noticed Ryan was in the store.

"Any more deliveries tonight, Mom?" Aidan asked Ms. Wynne.

"Here you are," she replied. She handed him a box and two wrapped bouquets. 

Aidan looked at the label on each, then took his phone and scanned it, getting directions, Ryan thought. "Forty minutes," Aidan said.

"That sounds fast," Ms. Wynne said.

Without answering, Aidan turned to go.

"Your friend is here," his mother said, pointing to Ryan. 

Aidan still didn't look at Ryan, and it made Ryan uncomfortable. "Hi, Aidan," he said, trying to make his voice cheerful. 

"Are you going back to Mandragon Arcade tonight?" Aidan asked. He had to be talking to Ryan, even though he wasn't looking in his direction. 

"Nah, I'm done for the night," Ryan said. "Thought I'd come by and see where you work."

"Okay," Aidan said. Apparently he was done talking. He took the bouquets and headed out to do his deliveries.

"Well," the florist said. She looked at Ryan with more attention. "That's interesting."

Ryan decided he ought to leave immediately. He felt guilty somehow about it, though, so he pulled one flower at random out of the clearance bucket he had noted earlier and took it up to the counter to buy. He was surprised to notice, once he'd picked it up, that the flower didn't look imperfect or wilted at all anymore.

Ms. Wynne rang it up without further comment. On Ryan's way out, he made a mental note of the flower shop's closing time. It was an hour earlier than the arcade closed, but Ryan only worked until closing a couple of nights a week.

That night, he gave his mother the flower he'd bought.

"I wasn't hinting," Milisa said with a touch of worry in her tone. Then she looked more closely at the flower her son had given her. "But this is wonderful," she said. "So much energy." She put it into a vase and sat it at the center of the kitchen table, beaming at it.

This became a new part of Ryan's routine. After he got off work, if it was early enough, he walked down to Aidan's mother's shop and bought a flower. His mother liked it when he brought her a flower after work; that was the reason he did it, he told himself. There was also a kind of reciprocity in it. And this way if Aidan ever got tired of trying new games, or ran out before he found another one he liked as much as Garden Keeper, Ryan would still have this connection. It wasn't like getting to watch him play the game he was really interested in. Nothing had filled that gap yet.

Quite a few times, the redhead had come in with pamphlets or seed packets or a pressed flower to show to Ms. Wynne. There was something about how she acted when she came in that reminded him of something. There was also, Ryan had noticed without coming to any conclusions about it, something about her visits that made the flowers seem brighter or more alive. But that wasn't what it reminded him of, what his mind kept trying to tell him.

When the thought finally came to him, there was such a pressure of an Eureka moment that Ryan didn't manage to keep it to himself. The redhead might even have heard, which would have been terrible; the door had only just closed behind her. "She likes you! That's it." He thought he probably blushed, his face felt so hot when he realized he'd said it out loud.

"I can't imagine," Ms. Wynne said, then fell silent. Ryan looked at her and their eyes met.

He saw a look of recognition on her face, as though she was realizing something, agreeing despite herself. But she was still denying it. "What could possibly make you think that?"

There was no one else in the store. Ryan was somehow bursting to say this, even though he knew he shouldn't. "She just keeps coming in, not buying anything, not selling anything. Coming in to see the store? To see you, it has to be." 

"I think she just likes flowers very much," Ms. Wynne said. Ryan thought he heard a wistful edge to her voice. "I doubt there's anything to do with me, other than the nature of my store."

There was an arcade right next door. But Aidan went to the one Ryan worked at. Even though the game he liked wasn't even there anymore, he still kept coming in, trying new game after new game, trying to find one he liked. 

It had not until this moment occurred to Ryan that Aidan came to Mondragon Arcade for any reason other than to play video games. He said that out loud too, much to his additional embarrassment. "That's what I thought Aidan came to my arcade for, too. Because he liked playing the video games." 

Ms. Wynne smiled her kind smile. "Let me show you something, Ryan."

He hadn't told her his name. Apparently she knew it. He nodded.

She took him out the door and walked a few steps to the window at the front of the arcade next to her shop. She pointed straight ahead. At a Garden Keeper game console. 

"That's Aidan's favorite game," Ryan said.

Aidan's mother nodded. "Yes, it is." She patted Ryan on the shoulder and went back into her shop. Ryan stared at the console through the window. 

Flowers, he thought. In my future. He smiled to himself and headed home.


End file.
